


how much and how great

by orphan_account



Series: Methymnian's End-of-Year Bonanza 2k17 [1]
Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alcohol, Fake Science, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Like, Identity Issues, M/M, Questioning, Trope-Ridden Fuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s insidious, the way he questions himself now, every half-remembered moment between himself and the members.In all of this, though, it’s never been Hongbin. Wonshik’s mind whirls. Hongbin, a man, okay, Wonshik can maybe see that. Hongbin, hisbest friend,who’d been basically sexless in Wonshik’s eyes until he suddenlywasn’t,and now that Wonshik can’t stop thinking about dick, he can’t stop thinking aboutHongbin’sdick specifically, and therein lie all of his current problems.





	how much and how great

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dumpster fire of a fic where it’s not gay and then suddenly it’s So Gay. This is nominally a Wonshik/Hongbin story, but really, it’s about Wonshik being So Gay for at least half of VIXX. It’s also entirely based on something I messaged to a mutual about Taekwoon, of all people.
> 
> Also, for the phrase "endless reel of tanned skin," which has stuck with me for way too long, thanks to likesatellites, and for the rest of it, thanks to the ol' Livejournal Kink List.

“This could honestly be much more…awful,” Hongbin tries, as Wonshik frowns down at the metal linking them together. The cuffs gleam in the harsh stage lights like a death sentence. “You could be chained to Hakyeon.”

“ _You_ could be chained to Hakyeon,” Wonshik counters, twisting his wrist, getting the feel of the steel around his wrist. It allows them almost no distance between one another, Wonshik’s left hand attached firmly to Hongbin’s right. “ _I_ wouldn’t mind it.” From somewhere stage right, Hakyeon’s hand, balled into a fist, meets his lips, stifling laughter. “When does the 24 hours start, hyung?” Wonshik asks wearily.

Hakyeon straightens up. “When we get home. Well. Really, when Jaehwan sees.” Hakyeon strides over for the express purpose of patting Wonshik’s shoulder obnoxiously. “Don’t worry, Wonshikkie, the day will be over before you know it.”

Hongbin levels an unimpressed look on Hakyeon, who smiles benevolently down at him and says, “You shouldn’t have lost if you didn’t want punishment.”

“You cheated,” Hongbin mumbles, and Wonshik nods enthusiastic agreement.

“We’ve been together for five years now,” Hakyeon argues. “If you haven’t learned to expect it by now, you deserve this even more.” He ruffles Hongbin’s hair vengefully. “My _precious_ dongsaeng.”

“I’m about to _preciously_ tell you to eat my—“

“Language,” Hakyeon chides. “The only thing we’ll be eating in the near future is a balanced dinner. _Not_ ramyeon,” he adds, looking pointedly at Wonshik. “You eat, and _then_ you drag Hongbin to the studio for the evening. Yes?”

Wonshik lowers his eyes and nods, submitting to Hakyeon. Hongbin scoffs and jostles their joined hands.

***

Jaehwan is, predictably, loudly amused by this entire situation. As Jaehwan screams and flaps about the dorm, Taekwoon puts one hand on Wonshik’s shoulder and asks seriously, “Are you still going to the studio tonight? Do you need me to come work on the instrumental?”

Sanghyuk just looks up and down Hongbin, betrayed. “Who _are_ you?” he asks, awed. “I don’t know you anymore.” Jaehwan bounds up behind Sanghyuk, eyebrows waggling suggestively a mile a minute.

“What are you two going to do with all this bonding time?” Jaehwan asks, lips in an inquisitive moue.

“He’s going to…produce,” Hongbin says vaguely, bored with it already. “ _I’m_ going to game. It’ll be like every other night, just less convenient.”

“Personal space,” Wonshik mutters, and Taekwoon makes a feathery noise of sympathy. “Really, though, we’re friends. We can deal with spending some time together."

Jaehwan squints at Wonshik over Sanghyuk’s shoulder. “I don’t know that working on two different things in the same room while handcuffed together constitutes bonding.” He draws out his words doubtfully. “Sanghyuk-ah, we should—"

“We should _not_ ,” Sanghyuk stops Jaehwan before he begins.

“Taekwoon—"

“They’re doing this as a _punishment_ , Jaehwan,” Taekwoon says patiently, the hint of a laugh bleeding into the edges. “I don’t think the idea is to outdo them.”

Jaehwan chews at his lower lip—Wonshik’s brain whispers _cute_ , but he chokes it back, refusing to give Jaehwan the satisfaction—and looks from Wonshik to Hongbin, Sanghyuk to Taekwoon, before turning on his heel and marching into the kitchen with a yell of, “ _Hakyeon-hyung_!” Hakyeon’s peals of laughter carry out like music.

“Be strong, Hongbin,” Sanghyuk says sagely, the weight of all his (few) years of wisdom behind it. He, too, joins Hakyeon in the kitchen, more likely to hinder than help.

Taekwoon peers at Wonshik and brushes Wonshik’s hair from his forehead. “I mean it. I’ll tell Hakyeon we can watch that scary movie some other night.”

“He’ll talk through it anyway so you ‘don’t know he’s scared’ even though it’s totally obvious,” Hongbin supplies, and Taekwoon smiles, quietly fond.

“He will,” Taekwoon confirms.

Wonshik shakes his head, making Taekwoon’s chilly fingertips skim across his skin. “I’ve still got to cut up those samples from yesterday. Figure out if they fit the tone. You can come in tomorrow. I know you’re secretly looking forward to movie night.”

“He works too hard,” Taekwoon mutters. “You work too hard. But it’s easier to keep an eye on you.” Taekwoon’s gaze lifts to study Wonshik’s features carefully, reading the lines of fatigue in them. Wonshik rolls his eyes, and Taekwoon’s fingertips glide down to tap at Wonshik’s chin, wordlessly telling Wonshik _I know you, no hiding from me_.

Hongbin clears his throat. “Right. This is all touching. But it smells like dinner already, and I’m hungry, so you can keep the Céci magazine shoot antics to yourself for now.”

***

“Jesus, could you turn the sound off,” Wonshik grumbles, and Hongbin hisses another few curses at the screen, ignoring him. “I can’t hear over your…thing.”

“Sorry,” Hongbin grits out, clicking furiously. He drags their hands over so he can tap impatiently at his laptop keyboard, the keys clicking irritably under the onslaught. “People are fucking stupid and— _ah_ , yeah, _fuck you too_ —you can just—hit the mute if you want—“

Wonshik reaches across with his right hand to hit the mute key on Hongbin’s laptop. Silence, except for Hongbin’s hissing breath and Taekwoon’s repeated croon looping in Wonshik’s headphones. Something about it isn’t _right_ , and Wonshik has been staring at waveforms for hours, trying to nail it down. He taps despondently at his controller. Synthesized electric guitar plucks in his ear, completely out of sync with Taekwoon.

“You could—“ Hongbin slams his laptop shut with the finality of the truly frustrated. “Put it down for the night, Wonshik. I’ve looked over enough to see you’re still on the same five seconds of the same song.”

Wonshik pushes his headphones down onto his neck. “And what do you propose we do instead?”

Hongbin leans down, tugging their joined hands with him, between Wonshik’s knees, popping open the mini fridge and retrieving two bottles from Wonshik’s secret soju stash. “Hakyeon’s not here to get all loud and weepy. Let’s drink and talk about feelings and shit.”

And so they play mindless videos on Hongbin’s nice gaming laptop and swig soju, passing the bottle between them in companionable silence, their cuffed hands joined on the armrest of Wonshik’s comfy computer chair.

***

It’s only when they return to the dorm, well-libated, that they discover a whole new set of problems.

Hongbin looks from Wonshik to the bed like one of them is preparing to attack.

“We’ve slept together before,” Wonshik mumbles, his eyes already drooping shut, weariness and liquor doing a number on him. “Just fuckin’. Get on the other side of the bed. No bodily contact necessary.”

“We’re _chained together_ ,” Hongbin grumbles. “You hit me in your sleep if I get on the other side, anyway.”

“Yah! I said I’m sorry!” Wonshik’s voice is too loud in the quiet of the dorm, and they both break down into hissing laugher. “I said I’m sorry,” Wonshik repeats, whispering this time. “Get in bed.”

This proves to be problematic, as it results in Hongbin going one way and Wonshik the other, tugging painfully at the metal between them. “Yah,” Hongbin protests. “Get in on the right!”

“Get in on the left, I’m the hyung,” Wonshik argues, and Hongbin flexes his stupid muscular bicep and sends Wonshik stumbling toward him.

Hongbin laughs again, all of his teeth shining in the low light, and catches Wonshik with his free arm. “I said, get in on the right. Hyung.” Wonshik punches Hongbin weakly in the bicep, but meekly collapses into his own bed. From the right. It feels _wrong_.

The mattress dips beside him with Hongbin’s weight, and another problem presents itself as their wrists twist awkwardly between them.

“The way I see it,” Wonshik reasons, a bit tipsily, “we have two options. Like this…” He rolls so that he’s facing Hongbin, both of them on their sides, their arms between them. “…or like this.” He flips himself over, dragging Hongbin’s arm to embrace him. “If you won’t settle for just being on the other side of the bed.”

“You hit me hard enough that I _woke up_ ,” Hongbin mutters, his eyes closed, his eyebrows close together in a way that suggests he’s concentrating very hard on what Wonshik is saying. “Roll over,” he concludes. “Like this, but you can be big spoon.”

Wonshik doesn’t _want_ to be big spoon, but he wants to sleep more than he wants to fight this particular battle with Hongbin. He obediently shifts, and their arms twist awkwardly again before Hongbin settles back against him, too warm, his waist narrow where Wonshik’s arm wraps around it. “You’re too warm,” Wonshik slurs, his breath fanning out across Hongbin’s ear, and Hongbin squirms crossly.

“So take off the blanket.”

They compromise by pulling the blanket to waist-level before Wonshik drops off to sleep, the soju splashing in his veins subsuming him all at once.

***

Wet, slick noises float through the hazy dark of the room. Wonshik’s head feels muzzy in the deep-purple space between night and morning, and Hongbin is making _noises_.

Breath, choked off, ragged. Wonshik closes his eyes. Tries to get back to sleep. Let Hongbin have some peace.

Because that’s the thing. Wonshik knows those sounds, even half-hungover with his mind heavy from sleep. They’re private sounds, Wonshik’s stolen in his downtime, taken selfishly in the studio or in his room between schedules, a faceless body in his imagination and his hand moving on autopilot to tease himself, to hoard a few minutes of _not-thinking_.

Breath again, shuddering exhale. And Wonshik tries not to picture it, his best friend getting off six inches from him, Wonshik’s hand splayed out on Hongbin’s hip, still cuffed together. No respect for Wonshik’s space.

With his eyes closed, though, it’s worse, his imagination spreading out a vivid rendering of what it would look like in broad daylight, the bitten lip, the pace of Hongbin’s hand matched up perfectly with those slick noises. Wonshik feels shame and confusion and disgust all pile up in his mind, tries to keep his breathing even, not to let Hongbin know he’s awake and he’s an unwilling voyeur to Hongbin’s pleasure.

The slick noises get quicker, Hongbin’s breath hitches, and then he exhales long and quiet and is silent, his free arm shifting around— _getting rid of evidence_ —and his body sinking back against Wonshik, warm, still too warm, but Wonshik makes a fake-sleepy noise and pulls him closer nonetheless.

The joy of drinking before bed is that it becomes infinitely easier for Wonshik to ignore the way Hongbin’s shuddery breaths and desperate arousal tug at something behind Wonshik’s belly. The warmth Wonshik feels suffusing his skin is just shame and Hongbin’s body heat in equal measure, and none of it stops him from falling back asleep.

***

At ass o’clock in the morning, Wonshik generally forgets how obnoxious Hakyeon can be. Instead, he’s only grateful for how quietly Hakyeon shuffles in, wearing only a low-slung pair of boxer shorts, nudges Wonshik awake, and retreats.

Today, he nudges Hongbin awake, too, and Hongbin’s hips grind against Wonshik’s when Hongbin stretches his legs out, yanking Wonshik’s arm with him when he raises his hands above his head. Hakyeon mumbles, “Hongbin has publicity for a drama shoot at ten,” and, “Wonshik has to submit the rough cut of the next LR track by noon,” and shuffles out of the room.

Hongbin lowers their cuffed hands to pat at Wonshik’s hip pointedly. “Come on. Get up. We need to shower.” He yawns, and Wonshik lets his eyes fall half-shut, trying to decide if his career is _really_ worth getting up right now. If he doesn’t, Hakyeon will probably come back anyway, aggressively cuddling Wonshik until Wonshik concedes.

“Ugh,” Wonshik groans anyway, because he’ll get up, and he’ll shower with Hongbin, but he wants it to be known that he doesn’t like any of it. Hongbin chuckles and reaches back with their joined hands to swat encouragingly at Wonshik’s ass.

God, but Wonshik hopes Hongbin didn’t notice anything out of place when he rubbed up against Wonshik’s stubborn morning wood. He hunches in on himself as Hongbin tows him bodily from the bed, willing his dick to function logically for once in its life as he stands up. Hongbin, fortunately, heads straight for the bathroom.

They’ve got their pissing routine down, at least, and it’s not like they’re complete novices to inconvenient bathroom-sharing. An unpleasant reality of six people living in a small space—which had been their old dorm, honestly—is that when one of them has a stomach bug, they all have a stomach bug, and the three eldest are stingy with bathroom space as-is.

They turn demurely away as they take turns at the toilet, and by then Wonshik’s blessedly soft, following Hongbin half-asleep into the shower. They’ve cut their losses on their shirts, torn them off of the chain between them groggily, the ripped fabric lying on the bathroom floor looking sad and expensive.

And now everything rushes back, standing under the hot spray with Hongbin. The water gathers in little cataracts over his broad shoulders and his collarbones, over the defined lines of his chest and waist, and Wonshik watches, dazed, as Hongbin turns around, and there’s a stream down the course of his spine, spilling into rivulets over the dip of his lower back. He’d heard Hongbin _getting off_ last night. He sees Hongbin now, perfunctorily scrubbing at his hair until it turns white with suds, and he has to reconcile the longing twinge in his dick with _Hongbin._

“Are you just going to stand there like a lump, or are you going to shower? Is your secret that you don’t actually wash anything?” Hongbin smacks Wonshik’s flank with the bottle of body wash in his hand, and Wonshik jumps nearly out of his skin.

“Yah, I do so,” Wonshik protests, snatching the body wash away. “Don’t ask me to wash your back or some dumb shit like that.”

“Wonshik, why the fuck would I need you to wash my back?” Hongbin asks, carefully maneuvering around so that he can get his soapy hair under the spray without braining Wonshik on anything. “I need you to move your gangly ass so I can reach the conditioner.”

Hongbin’s arms and chest flex as he reaches across Wonshik, and it does interesting things to the way the water slips over his skin, does weird things to the proximity between them. And it’s not weird—it shouldn’t be weird, they’re chained together—but Wonshik’s half-asleep brain is _making_ it weird because he heard Hongbin _touching his dick_ and now that dick is _right here_ and Wonshik’s dick is kind of confused about all of it.

“Hey, I’m stuck in here until you get your act together,” Hongbin points out. “So maybe in the next few minutes, yeah?”

He’ll get over it. It’s not every day that you hear your best friend getting off within breathing distance of you. He’s just in shock.

Wonshik draws the corners of his lips down petulantly but accepts the shampoo from Hongbin. They do another complicated little dance in the shower stall so that Wonshik can get most of himself rinsed off, his hair clean and his face fresh.

Towels turn out to present another challenge, as it takes two hands to knot a towel around one’s waist, and Wonshik’s hand comes dangerously close to Hongbin’s dick as Hongbin tugs him around matter-of-factly.

“Ugh,” Hongbin ends up grumbling. “Just. Close your eyes or something. I’m going to dry off, and then I’ll put my underwear on and you can dry off.”

So Wonshik stands there and drips forlornly, his eyes shut, his mind still playing an unending reel of Hongbin’s skin shining wet under the shower. The beat from LR’s next single thuds under it, and Wonshik knows that should be sexy, the song is sexy, but really it just stresses him out more. Not only is he picturing his best friend naked, he’s up against _deadlines_.

He doesn’t know where his hand is, just that it’s being manipulated in quick stops and starts by Hongbin until Hongbin says, “Done.” Wonshik opens his eyes gratefully and the fantasy dissipates into the real thing, flushed and half-clothed under the bathroom lights. “Your turn,” Hongbin suggests, lobbing Wonshik’s clean underwear at him.

“Don’t look,” Wonshik orders, and Hongbin shuts his eyes obediently as Wonshik dries himself off and stumbles into the article of clothing. “Okay, now you can look.”

Hakyeon finally, mercifully, lets them free when they come stumbling into the living room, seeking Taekwoon’s strong coffee. Hakyeon ushers them into the kitchen and sets breakfast down in front of them, and Taekwoon pours them both coffee—black, they all drink it black in the mornings.

Hakyeon puts the handcuff key in the silverware drawer, and Taekwoon mutters, “You’re never going to find that again,” as Wonshik and Hongbin look at each other, rubbing their wrists in relief, scooting farther apart. They eat together as a group, the six of them all loafing around in the kitchen, Jaehwan slurring something rambling and endless about anime as Sanghyuk blinks uncomprehendingly. Hakyeon leans on the counter next to the stove, his hip knocking companionably against Taekwoon’s as they sip their morning pick-me-up.

***

Taekwoon always leaves the studio at a sane hour of the night. He always takes Wonshik’s dog home to sleep and leaves behind takeout for Wonshik, who burns the midnight oil like it’s pyrotechnics on stage, working tirelessly on the next track.

They’d gotten the first one in by noon, the pair of them working together to iron out the little bits that needed tweaking, and now Wonshik is staring at the same waveforms he’d stared at with Hongbin last night, willing them to show him a sign of what they’re missing. But it’s nearing two in the morning and Wonshik’s mind has started to drift into formless space, latching onto every distracted thought that passes by.

He rubs absently at his left wrist, thinking of the clicking of laptop keys and hissed curses and soju bottles.

The tipsy weight of Hongbin’s body against Wonshik’s, warm and companionable on their way home. Their playful quarrel in the bedroom.

And then, inevitably, the muffled memory of Hongbin’s choked breath in the liminal space before dawn, the lush, wet sounds of his pleasure.

Wonshik’s dick is interested in this line of thought, and his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, but he presses his hand between his legs anyway, taking the edge off before it’s properly there. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s gotten off in this studio, but it’ll be the first time Wonshik draws it out, seduces himself into answering the questions flying across his mind about Hongbin, about why Wonshik can’t stop _thinking about it_.

He clicks around on the screen until the waveforms are all saved and secured away, goes into Taekwoon’s secret stash, dirty videos rather than soju—the kind someone’s paid to access, and Wonshik would place money on it being Hakyeon, because Hakyeon’s their resident expert at untraceable transactions. They’re all long legs and smooth skin and production value, and when Wonshik opens one at random, it’s a pair of men, built like dancers. Of _course_ it is.

Wonshik is here to figure himself out, damn it all. He steels himself and slides the timestamp to 25 minutes in, and they’re naked, getting ready to have what looks like soft, romantic anal sex, and Wonshik’s dick is definitely interested now. He watches them fuck, mesmerized, undoes his flies and gets a hand around his cock, because he’s quickly coming to realize he’s not _not_ turned on by this.

He pauses, opens another video. A man, face down, ass up, and another man with his face buried in said ass. It’s rougher, guttural groans from them both, shaking thighs, harsh-gripping hands on a slim waist. And now Wonshik’s desperately horny, because he can picture himself like that, facedown on a bed, begging to be fucked. Begging for more. It’s just never occurred to him before.

Wonshik bites his lip, moves his hand down to grip at his balls, strokes himself slowly to the image of Taekwoon like this, pleading for Hakyeon’s tongue inside him, because they think they’re stealthy but they really aren’t. And _God_ , that does something for him, and what if it were _him_ under Hakyeon, what would that be like. He reaches his free hand down to rub one fingertip experimentally behind his balls, across his entrance, and _damn_ , that’s a new feeling. That’s something. His hand slips over his dick more quickly, aided by the precum that’s already leaking from the slit.

_Fuck._

The guy getting his ass eaten rolls over luxuriously on the white sheets, and the other man kisses his way down to suck his dick now, and Wonshik’s mind flashes an image of Jaehwan’s lips, stretched wide around Wonshik’s cock, and that’s _perfect_ , and can Wonshik see himself going down on Jaehwan? On Sanghyuk? Sanghyuk fucks rough and fast, they all heard him with the girl he brought home on his twenty-first birthday, could Wonshik see himself letting Sanghyuk fuck his mouth?

The answers to all of these questions is apparently an unequivocal _yes_ , because Wonshik’s cock leaks enthusiastically, twitches powerfully in his grip, and he returns to fantasy Hakyeon and his mouth, does that thing behind his balls again, and comes, harder than he’s come in a long time, drawing helpless, wanton noises from him, spraying across his chest and (oh God, he notes with some alarm) on Taekwoon’s keyboard, left out by the edge of the desk.

He’s breathing deep and heavy as he comes down, freaking out internally—because _fuck_ , he can’t be gay. Wonshik’s a forward-thinking young man but he’d liked pussy not 48 hours ago and he’s not willing to dedicate his life to the pursuit of theoretical dick yet.

Distraught, he turns to the internet, stealthily navigating to a few old standbys, and a sweeping sense of relief takes him when girls are still unreasonably hot, when the idea of talking to a girl still makes him blush and want to stammer an apology. His dick twitches pitifully, still spent, and Wonshik sighs, decides he’s done enough soul-searching for the night. There’s still jizz on Taekwoon’s piano, shining as an indictment of Wonshik’s character from D2.

A quick internet search tells him that yes, he’s allowed to be into women too. So that’s that, then, Wonshik decides, cleaning himself up, getting ready to stagger his way back to the dorm, his head a bit clearer on the whole matter. Or, perhaps, just a bit clearer on the uncertainty of it, the answers he should have but doesn’t.

Except Wonshik’s been hearing the slick sounds of Hongbin’s hand every time it gets too quiet in a room, remembering the shame rushing through him hot and fast.

It’s insidious, the way he questions himself now, every half-remembered moment between himself and the members. Taekwoon, brushing Wonshik’s hair from his forehead, and had Wonshik’s stomach lurched at that? Had something in his chest twisted when Hakyeon crawled into his arms, worn out from solo schedules, to watch the Home Shopping Channel until he fell asleep on the couch? Had he grown warm and felt himself melting when Jaehwan—

He stops himself, because for Jaehwan, the answer has been yes, always yes, and really, Wonshik should have seen this coming. Every time he looks up at Sanghyuk and thinks how handsomely he’s grown up, what a good man he’ll make someone. Every time he presses Hakyeon’s body against himself and purrs under Hakyeon’s roaming hands. The quiet companionship between himself and Taekwoon, gentle and loving, shared passion.

In all of this, though, it’s never been Hongbin. Wonshik’s mind whirls. Hongbin, a man, okay, Wonshik can maybe see that. Hongbin, his _best friend_ , who’d been basically sexless in Wonshik’s eyes until he suddenly _wasn’t_ , and now that Wonshik can’t stop thinking about dick, he can’t stop thinking about _Hongbin’s_ dick specifically, and therein lie all of his current problems.

Well, almost all. He still can’t figure out what’s missing from that one LR song, and Hakyeon still grabs his ass entirely too often.

***

It’s the next night, when he’s finally made it home from the studio—the song needed Taekwoon’s breathy moans layered over the rap verse, honestly, who knew—that Wonshik marshals the forces of his considerable self-motivation and leans into Hongbin’s room, where Hongbin is, predictably, gaming, his leg bouncing restlessly under his desk as his eyes fly over his desktop screen.

“‘Bin,” Wonshik calls, and that’s at least a squadron of his men wounded. “Can I borrow you tonight? Best-friend time. I. Have some stuff. I’d rather talk to you about than like, Hakyeon or somebody.”

Hongbin cuts his gaze over to Wonshik, appraising Wonshik’s lanky, pajamaed form in Hongbin’s doorway quickly before returning to his game. “Sure. Can it wait until I’m done here?”

“Yeah, sure,” Wonshik acquiesces. Another soldier takes a hit. “I’ll be in my room. Drinks on me. I got that flavored soju you like.” He’d stared at the convenience store cooler for a good minute, wondering if it would look, in hindsight, like he was trying to apologize to Hongbin before he’d even begun to speak, but in the end had concluded that Hongbin deserved an apology anyway.

Hongbin takes a few minutes too long in showing up, which is just enough time for Wonshik’s insides to feel like they’ve stopped up entirely, turned to cement weighing him down. He doesn’t need to do this. He can hoard his secrets to himself. Well, until Hakyeon figures it out, and Hakyeon’s steel-and-sugar interrogation techniques pry it from Wonshik.

_Hongbin, please hurry up_ , Wonshik thinks at him, as loudly as possible. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have with Hakyeon, and it feels increasingly like something too big for just Wonshik.

Hongbin is a saint, really, because he strides through the door looking disgruntled just as Wonshik makes the decision to call the whole thing off and starts drafting the speech he’s going to use to release all his troops and send them home.

“Hey,” Hongbin greets Wonshik, settling down opposite Wonshik on Wonshik’s bedroom floor. “What’s going on? I hear there’s drinks. Which is great, because people on the internet are pieces of shit and can’t game at the level of a toddler.”

Wonshik wordlessly plunks down the soju between them, taking two shots right off the bat. Hongbin does the same with an air of amusement. He sets the bottle back on the hardwood floor, and Wonshik waits for the soju to hit, waits for words to tumble out of his mouth.

“Did you have something on your mind?” Hongbin asks delicately, a bit acidly, like he could be doing something else right now but he’s here watching Wonshik take shots and search for words.

Wonshik looks at Hongbin, really looks at him. He isn’t any different. His cheekbones are still sharp enough to cut glass, and his smile is even sharper, crinkling his eyes as he aims it at Wonshik. Not its full wattage but still bright enough to hurt. Wonshik looks away, to Hongbin’s clavicles, his chest, muscled from their shared gym routine. His arms. His broad shoulders, hunched in as he leans forward, earnest and intent on what Wonshik wants to say, regardless of his earlier cynicism.

“I, uh.” Wonshik swigs straight from the bottle, and Hongbin makes a judgmental face of distaste. “I.” He can’t get the words out, can’t tell his _best friend_ this significant _thing_ about him, too unsure of himself.

“It must be important, if you can’t say anything,” Hongbin reasons, reaching out to pat Wonshik’s knee sympathetically before leaning back, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling. “The last time you couldn’t talk, I think…was it HyunA?”

“No,” Wonshik laughs, glad for the distraction. “It was when I ate Jaehwan’s snacks and Hakyeon found out.”

Hongbin’s smile turns wry. “ _Right_. And that was important, because you’re actually a shitty judge of what’s important.”

They fall silent for a bit, their amiable quiet now fraught with tension around the edges. The light shifts on the planes of Hongbin’s face, and Wonshik wonders if this is it, if this is how it feels to want Hongbin. He thinks Hongbin is probably gorgeous from every angle, no matter where the light plays over his skin.

And Wonshik’s mouth races to say that, but it comes out entirely wrong.

“I like dick,” Wonshik blurts.

“Good man,” Hongbin responds, pouring another shot for them both.

Hongbin does have a gift for making all of Wonshik’s looming terror disappear into the void of anticlimax.

“I like _your_ dick,” Wonshik sighs, defeated, and Hongbin gingerly replaces the soju bottle on the floor.

“Pardon?”

Here it comes, the _reaction_ , the disgust, the disavowal of their friendship, grown careful and steady over the years. Wonshik reaches for the soju bottle and Hongbin snatches it away, making a patronizing noise as he does. Hongbin tips the bottle up into his own mouth and puts it down, behind himself, well out of Wonshik’s reach unless he lunges forward, past Hongbin. Which he won’t do, because Hongbin deserves all the personal space Wonshik can give him.

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik apologizes. “I. Didn’t _mean_ to.”

“Oh my god, you dumbass, you don’t have to _apologize_ for—“ Hongbin waves one hand in the air. “ _Any_ of it. Fuck, if you wanted me to make out with you, you should have just _said_ something.”

Wonshik can’t look at Hongbin suddenly, his cheeks growing hot all over again. “I _didn’t_ want you to. Until. I guess I did. You’re—?”

Hongbin snorts. “It doesn’t matter what I am, Wonshik, I spend all my time playing video games. I don’t think you can be around Hakyeon for five years and _not_ consider what it would be like, though.”

“That, uh, yeah, that seems to have been the case for Taekwoon-hyung,” Wonshik stammers out, thrown off-balance by the _normalcy_ of it, like it’s fine to be talking to Hongbin about how Wonshik wants to touch him in non-platonic places. The soju warms him to that thought, makes him happy and grateful and all manner of disgusting, sappy feelings, and Wonshik says, “I think I want you to.”

Wonshik’s a thinker, and Hongbin’s a doer, and that’s always been their dynamic, hasn’t it? Now isn’t any different from it’s ever been, except Hongbin caps the soju and puts it well out of the way, closes the distance between them until Wonshik can’t see anything but the broad reach of Hongbin’s chest, still in his clothes from whatever interview he’d had earlier. The strong angle of his jawline, and then, closer than it’s ever had occasion to be, Hongbin’s face.

“Sure?” Hongbin asks, and Wonshik’s heart drops, picks up its pace, because it’s easy, it’s so _easy_ , to say, “Sure,” back, to lean in and press his lips to Hongbin’s.

_Shit_ , that’s different, Hongbin’s lips thinner than he’s used to, the scratch of five o’clock shadow under Wonshik’s fingertips as he guides Hongbin’s mouth to his own, the way stubble chafes at his skin as Wonshik runs his hand curiously down Hongbin’s neck—Hongbin shivers—to his shoulder, muscular and tense under Wonshik’s fingers when he kneads there.

“I,” Hongbin murmurs when they part for air. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Wonshik agrees, and Hongbin clambers into Wonshik’s lap, kissing him again, deeper, rougher, and _fuck_ , this is what Wonshik wanted, what he’s pictured, and it’s hungry and wet and Hongbin’s teeth drag across Wonshik’s lips and his stubbled chin hits Wonshik’s and it _hurts_ but it’s so good, and Wonshik moans out his appreciation, wraps his arms around Hongbin’s back, lets himself be kissed until he’s pliant under it.

“Jesus, okay,” Hongbin’s voice is rough in the air between them, the scant space filling with heat. “Just—“ He rolls his hips and they drag against Wonshik’s, and _oh_ , that’s Hongbin’s dick pressing hard and insistent against Wonshik’s hip. For a moment, he’s startled, but then Hongbin’s teeth are at his throat, worrying the skin there. Wonshik’s eyes fall closed and he slides his hands down Hongbin’s back, down the flare of his waist, and it’s nothing like a woman, all hard lines and muscled planes where Wonshik expects the soft give of flesh.

But it’s hot, so hot, when Wonshik grabs Hongbin’s ass and Hongbin drops his head to Wonshik’s shoulder and _moans_ , raspy and deep and shooting straight to Wonshik’s cock, hitching up in another slow grind. Hongbin drags in another shaky breath and guides Wonshik into some kind of rhythm, fast and frantic, their lips meeting and slipping against one another sultrily. “Yeah?” Hongbin asks, and Wonshik nods, says, “Yeah,” like he can’t really believe he’s doing this.

He’s agonized over this, put in hours of hard thought, and he’s still seen remarkably little—none at all, in fact—of the dick that’s so occupied his mind lately, and he’s intent on changing that. He hasn’t dragged himself this far to _not_ see a dick that isn’t his own up close and personal, and he babbles as much between rutting needy up against Hongbin, between filthy kisses.

Hongbin kneels back on the floor, says, “Yeah, alright,” gets his pants and underwear off. And God, that’s a _look_ , his dress shirt still buttoned, his cock against his stomach leaking lazily onto the hem.

Wonshik drags Hongbin closer by the front of his shirt, kisses him again as he undoes each button, gets his mouth on all that skin, mapping out planes and dips and tiny imperfections to hear Hongbin gasp above him.

He gets to the bottom buttons of the shirt and he’s abruptly confronted with Hongbin’s dick, the head of it bumping against Wonshik’s chin— _hey, I’m here_. Wonshik kisses wetly across Hongbin’s abdomen—Hongbin makes this little whimpering noise—and then across the head of his cock, little wet, sucking kisses, just out of curiosity.

It doesn’t taste like much besides salt and skin and slick, and Hongbin groans long and drawn-out and hauls Wonshik up for another soju-flavored kiss, his bare thighs parting around Wonshik’s clothed waist. Wonshik fixes that quickly, shoving his pants and underwear down and off, stripping off his t-shirt so they’re skin on skin, right there on the bedroom floor.

And that’s definitely Hongbin’s dick up against Wonshik’s, but he’s tipsy enough that it’s just hot, everything is so _hot_ , and he’s been thinking about this for days, turning it over in his mind, how much he wants to get Hongbin under him.

Except Hongbin isn’t having that, and he wrestles Wonshik back so Wonshik’s sitting naked on his bedroom floor with a lapful of Hongbin, still wearing that goddamn shirt, gaping open and doing nothing to hide how gorgeously flushed he is with arousal, how his cock twitches when Wonshik grips it with tentative fingers. It’s warm and smooth and not entirely unlike Wonshik’s, a bit thicker maybe, a bit shorter. He rubs his thumb under the head and strokes once, slow and tight, and Hongbin makes a frustrated _ah_ noise and pushes his body against Wonshik’s. He figures he’s learned something in his extensive research.

He flips his grip around so it’s less awkward, pulls his hand up Hongbin’s dick again, and Hongbin’s nails dig into Wonshik’s shoulders, his body going taut and his breath hitching. “Good?” Wonshik asks, but he already knows the answer.

“Good,” Hongbin confirms, and adds, “Just—don’t stop.”

And _fuck_ , that sounds like sin, but Hongbin gets his hand between them and slides his hips forward, coaxing Wonshik’s hand to wrap around them both, to grind against Hongbin in a punishing rhythm, their ragged breathing loud in the still air of Wonshik’s bedroom.

Whatever lingering traces of questioning were present at the back of Wonshik’s mind shudder out with his breath as he licks the sweat from Hongbin’s bare chest, sucks at a peaked nipple to hear Hongbin’s surprised cry. Their dicks are swollen and heavy in Wonshik’s hand, dripping, making trails of wet on their stomachs that gleam in the low light. Hongbin looks like something out of Taekwoon’s expensive pornography, his hips working into Wonshik’s grip, his back arched deliciously, his head tipped to the side so Wonshik can scrape his teeth over Hongbin’s collarbones.

And it’s different, forceful, the lines of Hongbin’s body sharp and angular against Wonshik’s in a way that makes him _want_ , some day, to have it rough, to be pinned down and _taken_ and possessed, and it’s that shocking realization that tips him over the edge, Hongbin dragging him in for a sloppy kiss as Wonshik moans out his release. It’s a warm, slippery mess, and Hongbin rolls his hips faster, frantic, knocks Wonshik’s hand away to curl his own hand around himself. Wonshik watches, entranced, as Hongbin loses himself entirely, hooks an arm around Wonshik’s shoulders and pulls them impossibly close, grinds out his orgasm against Wonshik’s bare abs.

It falls quiet in the room again, except for how they’re both gasping for air. Wonshik feels the unmistakably nasty sensation of cooling bodily fluids on his stomach, but he ignores it in favor of clinging to Hongbin, meditating on the weight of him atop Wonshik, the whirling of his mind gone still in favor of _feeling_. He checks in with himself, finds that he doesn’t feel as _changed_ as he thought, that instead he just feels vaguely sticky and dirty, like he’s felt every time he’s ever fucked anyone.

“Hey,” Hongbin mutters somewhere in the vicinity of Wonshik’s collarbone. “We should definitely shower. And we should definitely avoid Hakyeon until we do.”

Wonshik agrees. It’s a solid plan.

***

They’re lying in bed—Wonshik’s bed, again—later, when Wonshik feels the need to reveal his recent findings, his methodology, see if his best friend finds it sound. He flops to the side and rubs his hand down Hongbin’s front, gropes gently between his legs to watch Hongbin squirm, arch against Wonshik. For a minute, they get distracted, limbs tangled together under Wonshik’s tacky comforter, the air heating up between them as they kiss.

“I’m bisexual,” Wonshik finally manages, when he catches his breath, and Hongbin whacks him on the bicep.

“Really? I could have told you that, dumbass.”

Wonshik pouts, and Hongbin whacks him again. “Don’t you want to know how I figured it out?” he sulks, and Hongbin looks up at the ceiling, visibly praying for patience.

“Did you ask Hakyeon? That’s usually how you figure shit out. He’s got you whipped.”

“No!” Wonshik pouts some more. “It was very scientific.”

Hongbin snorts, presses a kiss to the tip of Wonshik’s nose through a smirk. “I’ll humor you. How did you figure it out?”

Wonshik blushes from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes, and Hongbin raises a questioning eyebrow. “I heard you getting off. That night we got chained together by Hakyeon. And then porn. Lots of porn.” He pauses, looks away from Hongbin, clears his throat. “Women, yeah. And men. And then specific men.”

“Kim Wonshik,” Hongbin gasps, mock-scandalized. “You know there’s a rule about listening to your bro jerk it.”

“You were _right there_ ,” Wonshik protests. “It’s not like you ever had a fucking dick before. And then it was _right there_.” He pauses, considering. “Besides, it’s not like you _knew_ I was listening, which I think is the point of the rule anyway. It’s _my_ bed.”

Hongbin presses his lips together, obviously not pursuing this line of argument further. His fingertips play idly with the waistband of Wonshik’s boxers as he hums in thought. “So you did what you always do, which is _vastly overthink things_ , and your weird brain got stuck on…dick.”

“ _Your_ dick,” Wonshik offers helpfully. Hongbin looks at the ceiling again like God will send down a sexually-aware angel to aid him in his time of need. “And then porn.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Hongbin sighs, long-suffering. “Women _and_ men? What, you needed a control group? Wonshik, you don’t just _wake up_ one day and you’re never able to get it up for a girl again. That’s not how it works.”

“I had no guidance!” Wonshik complains. “I didn’t want to ask Hakyeon because he would have been all _understanding_ and _oh, who doesn’t suck a dick once in a while Wonshikkie, you’re still a valuable asset to the band_ and Taekwoon would have—“

“Taekwoon would have given you excruciating detail, pretending he’s being helpful,” Hongbin agrees. “And Jaehwan. Ah.”

Wonshik yanks at the comforter until it’s comfortably up at their shoulders. “So, you see, I had one course of action. Experimentation. Trial and error.”

In all of this, the one thing Hongbin retains is, “Error?” His eyebrow raises again, obviously interested in Wonshik’s misfortune. Wonshik is personally more interested in the way Hongbin’s fingertips have moved to the front of his boxers, worrying at the waistband there, now that he’s confessed his sins against the bro code to Hongbin.

“Do not ever tell Taekwoon I jerked off in our studio, so help me,” Wonshik swears. “I—didn’t _mean_ to get any on Taekwoon’s keyboard. It was an _accident_.”

Hongbin doubles up in hissing laughter at this, his knees coming perilously close to Wonshik’s dick, and Wonshik crosses his arms petulantly over his chest.

“You don’t—fucking—say,” Hongbin bites out between fits.

“I cleaned it up,” Wonshik mutters, and Hongbin giggles some more.

Finally, after pulling himself together with visible effort, Hongbin presses his smile against Wonshik’s flank. “Wonshik, you fluffy healer main. Of _course_ you cleaned it up. _Ah,_ you’re precious. You’re so nice and earnest and sweet.” He wheezes out another laugh. The air fans out across Wonshik’s chest. “And you’re a total dumbass, but it’s okay, because you’re cute.”

Wonshik has the distinct feeling he’s being mocked.

“Yah,” he mutters, but it’s halfhearted, because Hongbin’s hand dips into his boxers to roll Wonshik’s balls in the palm of his hand and Wonshik stops caring. Hongbin’s lips meet Wonshik’s in another slow, sultry twirl of tongues, and when they part, Hongbin skims his palm up and down Wonshik’s side reassuringly, at complete odds with the hand working Wonshik back up onto the edge of madness.

“It’s okay, Wonshik-ah.” Hongbin’s lips at his jawline. “I’ll keep your nasty, nasty production secrets from scary Taekwoon-hyung who sucks Hakyeon off in the dance practice room.” Wonshik’s dick is very, very keen on what Hongbin’s doing down there, and Wonshik presses his thigh between Hongbin’s legs, gives Hongbin something to grind languidly against as he teases Wonshik.

“I had a long journey on my way to self-actualization, and I wanted to make that journey in a comfortable space,” Wonshik asserts. Hongbin’s laugh this time is darker, wicked in a way that sends a thrill up Wonshik’s spine.

“‘Self-actualization through copious masturbation’ is going to be the title of your next mixtape, Kim Ravi,” Hongbin sighs, his fingers slipping behind Wonshik’s balls to stroke the tender skin there. Wonshik gasps against Hongbin’s neck, bites there for good measure. “You realize you don’t have to get out your labelmaker for every single little thing, right?”

“I _don’t_ own a—“

Hongbin’s lips cover Wonshik’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. “I know you own a labelmaker. You keep it in your sock drawer with your Astroglide.”

“Taekwoon does what—“

Hongbin’s thumb does something interesting under the head of Wonshik’s dick, though, and that’s the end of their conversation.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/slowlorisvevo)
> 
> [tumblr](http://rapjoonhyung.tumblr.com)


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